Fire and Ice
by MarcusJuniusBrutus
Summary: Why is Lucius Malfoy so evil? Perhaps this is best explained in his childhood. One Shot.


Typical Disclaimer: The main characters here are not mine. Those that are had their names stolen from the rest of the Wonderful World of Wizarding anyway. Please don't show this to anyone without my permission... You know the routine.  
  
FIRE AND ICE  
  
"Mother?" a young boy stood at the top of the stairs, peeking through the ornate rails.  
  
"Lucius, what are you doing awake?" The woman's clear blue eyes looked unusually panicked. She hurried up the stairs and embraced her son as tears ran down her face.  
  
"I heard someone shouting. Were the Tonks's here? Did you tell them like you said you would?"  
  
"Yes; they were here." Her voice barely reached above a whisper.  
  
"Do they hate us now because we're wizard's and they're Muggles?"  
  
"No. They don't hate us. They just don't... understand, like I thought they would."  
  
"Does Ted hate me now? Is he still coming over tomorrow?"  
  
Mrs. Malfoy lightly kissed the top of his blond head. "Go back to bed, Lucius. And lock your door tonight."  
  
He nodded obediently, none the less curious, but too exhausted to argue. Letting out a yawn, he trailed sleepily back to his room. Behind him, he heard his mother say to his nurse, a house elf named Nymphadora, "Keep a close eye on him tonight. If the worst should happen..." She stopped when Lucius turned to listen.  
  
Finally, he entered his room, carefully shutting and locking the door behind him. Then he threw himself down on the mattress and feather pillows. For some reason, a snatch of his parents' conversation earlier that day occurred to him- something about his father saying that it might be better not to tell the Tonks family about the Wizarding World because they lived in a very superstitious part of England.  
  
His eyelids drooped shut, and the last thing he saw was his mother entering the room, let in by Nymphadora, who would lock the door behind her again when she left. She bent over, candle in hand, and placed something on his nightstand. Vaguely he felt her kiss him on the cheek, then he dropped off to sleep.  
  
The only thing that woke him an hour or so later was Nymphadora shaking him furiously. "Wake up, young master," she hissed urgently.  
  
"What? What is it?" he questioned sleepily.  
  
A loud banging at the front door jolted him to awareness. Soon, he heard loud, unfamiliar coives downstairs, and he crept to the door. "Come away from there, sir," the house elf said in an alarmed voice. She grabbed his arm.  
  
"Stop it, Dori. I just want to se what's going on." As he reached for the doorknob, a loud BANG resounded through the house. Downstairs, his mother screamed his father's name, full of desperation. At that, he unlocked and threw open the door.  
  
He bounded over and crouched at his place at the railway near the stairs, and saw his mother cradling his father's body. A large spot of blood was growing across his chest, and he was not moving. She was crying hysterically, but the angry crowd gathered around seemed pleased. Pleased and self-righteous.  
  
Just then, Mr. and Mrs. Tonks burst into the house, pushing their way through the crowd. They each went to one side of Mrs. Malfoy and put a hand on her shoulders, looking shocked. Finally, Mr. Tonks turned to the mob. "What are you doing, Dursley?" he demanded of the obvious leader, who was still holding a rifle- a sort of Muggle weapon- so that it was pointed at Mr. Malfoy.  
  
"What do you think? I don't want my son Vernon to grow up near a house full of wizards and witches."  
  
Tonks was pale and trembling in fear, but he plunged ahead anyway. "Do you have to kill them, though? That's murder!"  
  
Kill them? Lucius blinked in surprise then moved to jump up and protest, but he found himself grabbed from behind. A hand came over his mouth, and he turned angrily to reproach Dori, but saw Ted Tonks there instead. He put a finger to his lips that motioned for Lucius to follow him.  
  
The boy shook his head, a determined look in his pale blue eyes. A scuffle and shouting match broke out below, and he whipped his head around, away from his best friend... just in time to see Dursley pull the trigger of the gun.  
  
"No!" The sound was fortunately masked by the gunshot. He felt his body grow weak looking down at his parents. As tears blurred his vision, he allowed himself to be dragged away by Ted's trembling hand.  
  
When they re-entered Lucius's room, Ted locked the door and slid the bolt shut. He was silent for a moment, but then appeared to remember why he was there. "My parents sent me to get you out of here. I came through the window." He pointed at a tree that was near it. "You can stay at our place."  
  
Lucius nodded, then with a sudden clarity of thought, he said, "Dori, go to the Ministry of Magic. Tell someone there what happened." Seeing Ted's surprised look at seeing a house elf, he introduced, "Tonks, Nymphadora. Nymphadora, Tonks." They nodded to each other, Ted with his mouth hanging open, and Dori disapparated with a snap of her fingers. Ignoring his friend, Lucius glanced around the room to see if there was anything he needed.  
  
First, he noticed the key that his mother had placed on his nightstand. Grabbing it, he saw that it was the key to the family vault at Gringotts, where they kept their vast fortune and important documents. Then he grabbed his favourite black robe and his velvet midnight-blue cloak. It was autumn, after all, and he couldn't very well go running around in his nightclothes.  
  
It didn't take much time to change into his robe and fasten the cloak around his neck. As he did so, he instructed Ted to get the broomstick on the shelf over his bed. Ted was growing worried over the delay, and urged Lucius to hurry up, but with a puzzled expression, he retrieved the broomstick. "Thanks," Malfoy said as he secured the key in a pocket and pulled on a pair of black boots then gloves. "Hop on." Ted frowned, but before Lucius could clarify, someone pounded on the door.  
  
"We know you're in there, you little sorcerer," a man shouted. "You might as well come out." Lucius thought he sounded like Mark Evans, his next-door neighbor, and a former friend of his parents.  
  
"Hop on," Lucius repeated urgently. Tonks did comply, awkwardly straddling Lucius's prize possession- his racing broom. Malfoy got on in front of him and kicked off the ground.  
  
Normally, he would have found this experience exhilarating, and it might have been funny to hear Ted screaming behind him, but soon he felt the adrenaline drop away, and he was left shaking violently, with tears streaming down his face. The only thing he could do was land the broom, so he did, and was soon sobbing on the ground, collapsed in a blue and black heap. Ted was silent beside him, and Lucius did not dare look at him, much less try to speak for several minutes.  
  
Finally, he choked out, "The Muggles killed them."  
  
"Not all the... uh... Muggles," Ted protested weakly. "My parents..."  
  
"Told them our secret," he interrupted. "It was just as much their fault."  
  
"You can't just go around handing out blame," Ted shouted, rising angrily. "My parents came to help you and offered a place to stay."  
  
"Well, that didn't help much, did it?"  
  
The Muggle boy's eyes blazed in fury. "If you think that, then maybe you should just stay here and wait fro your Magic thing. Maybe freeze in the meantime."  
  
"Fine. I wouldn't want to stay in the house of a Muggle anyway."  
  
A rushing sound caught both boys' attention, and they saw the Malfoy Manor going up in flames. Ted quickly lost his temporary passion, not being one to hold a grudge. "Come on, Lucius."  
  
"What did I just tell you?" He stamped his foot impatiently in the snow, feeling for the first time in his warm, sheltered life the pain of loss.  
  
Something in his icy eyes seemed to frighten Ted, for he slowly backed away from the wizard boy, then he turned and ran. Lucius stared at the fiery house again, with a cold feeling that did not just come from the weather. He knew that he could not cry again, had he tried. And a new emotion overwhelmed him that he had not felt before: hate. 


End file.
